


Reintroduction

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abduction, Blindfolds, Bondage, Butt Plugs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Edgeplay, Gags, M/M, Medical Bondage, Medical Kink, Sounding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Doctor Styles leans back. “What your body needs is a full reset from the top down. We’ll start immediately, of course, no time like the present, but it’ll be a while before you’re really up and functioning.” He glances down at his chart. “By the time we’re done here, though, I’m sure you’re going to be as cooperative and helpful as the best of them.”
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64
Collections: Anonymous, Anonymous Unicorns





	Reintroduction

The room is white, sterile, and bright. The lights in the ceiling are bright enough that when Louis opens his eyes, he can barely see at first. 

It’s a small room, the bed he’s on takes up most of it. A small, white, sterile hospital room. The bed is inclined enough that he’s partway to a sitting position, forty five degree angle that has him just short of comfortable.

Just short, of course, because he seems to be strapped to the bed.

There are white straps around his thighs, pulling his legs apart  _ just so, _ buckled tight to the sides of the bed. His upper arms are buckled down with similar straps, and there’s one thicker one around his waist, anchoring him to the bed. The hospital gown — a soft blue with white polka dots — feels revealing at best, and downright indecent at worst, the way it falls just to the top of his thighs, barely covering his manhood and creased up where it’s been caught in the strap around his middle. 

Louis would call out, yell for help or demand to know what’s going on, but the thick gag covering his mouth and strapped around the back of his head is enough to silence his cries. It’s large and padded, covering his cheeks and pushing between his teeth, keeping his mouth open just enough that his jaw is starting to ache. 

Louis does try just once, a subtle  _ mmph _ all that comes out. He moves around on the bed — his hands are free, his arms below the elbow able to move about just fine, but while he can reach the strap around his middle, he can’t find a way to unbuckle or otherwise remove it. Even lifting his head up off the bed he can’t reach his gag. 

He jolts in surprise when the door opens. 

A man in a white coat comes bustling in, a chart in his hand and a stethoscope around his neck. His shoulders are broad and his hair isn’t long but the curls in it are evident. He looks with surprise at Louis. 

“You’re awake!” he says, taking a seat on the stool next to the bed. He smiles as he speaks and dimples appear in his cheeks. In other circumstances, Louis would find him quite attractive. He finds him attractive now, really, but there are other things on his mind. 

“Excellent,” the man continues. “Glad to see you’ve finally joined us, I know you’ve been here quite a while and people were starting to worry.”

Louis frowns. He hums a little, in response, because he doesn’t know how to respond. He  _ can’t  _ respond.

The man takes no notice. “I’m Doctor Styles,” he says, nodding his head in greeting. “I’ll be your attending physician. Now, can I ask how you’re feeling?”

Louis stares at him in confusion. He makes a louder humming noise, motions with his hand to his clearly gagged mouth. 

Doctor Styles frowns. He retrieves a pen from his white coat and clicks it, writing something down on his chart. “Right,” he says. “Now, Louis, I’m really going to need you to cooperate with me. I know you’ve probably had a tough time, but I’m here to help you.” He looks up and fixes Louis with a serious glance. “Tell me honestly, are you feeling well?”

Louis, frustrated and a little scared, lets out a muffled yell. He kicks his feet and clenches his fists,  _ anything _ to show the doctor that what is happening is  _ not _ okay.

Doctor Styles stands abruptly, throwing his clipboard onto the counter behind him with a clatter. “You’re being uncooperative and violent,” he says, his tone authoritative. “I’m going to have to restrain you for your own good.”

_ I’m already restrained, _ Louis thinks desperately, but Doctor Styles leans over one side of the bed and retrieves another white strap, grabbing Louis’ left ankle in a  _ shockingly _ firm grip and wrapping the strap around it, pulling the end back over the side and through a buckle until Louis’ ankle is firmly held to the bed. Desperate, Louis kicks his other leg over the side and tries to fold his knee enough to keep it away from the doctor’s restraints, but Doctor Styles walks over to that side and easily grabs that ankle, pulling it back down to the end of the bed and securing it with a matching strap. 

“This is only so that you can get better,” the doctor says to him, moving over just enough to grab one of Louis’ wrists. Louis tries to reach out with his other hand, to scratch and claw at the man, but Doctor Styles makes little work of capturing both wrists in one hand, reaching over the side of the bed and procuring what looks like a little white pouch. 

Louis groans, pushing against his grip with all his strength, but the doctor is clearly practiced at this, and with his free hand he folds one of Louis’ hands into a fist and slips the pouch on, pulling it tight and then grabbing a second pouch from the side of the bed and making equally quick work of his other hand. Louis realises with horror that his hands are trapped in that shape, balled up into fists in thick medical mittens that the doctor is strapping to the sides of the bed just like his ankles. 

“There we are,” Doctor Styles says. “Now, doesn’t that feel comforting? No need to think about fighting when you’re all buckled down nice and tight and comfy.” He walks back over to the other side and takes his seat on the stool again, swiveling it to pick up his chart. “I’ll have to make a note of that, of course, but don’t worry! Everything we do is to help you.” He scribbles something down and then leans forward, making eye contact with Louis. “I’ve been told that you’re going to need a full check-up,” he says. “Just to be sure that we haven’t missed anything. Are you okay with that?”

Louis doesn’t say anything at all this time, knowing by now that it makes no difference. Doctor Styles sits back and eyes him before making another note. “Uncooperative,” he mumbles as he writes. “Not a great sign, I must admit, but we’re willing to try to work things out with anyone.” 

He puts his clipboard aside again and drags his stool forward, so that he looms over Louis’ prostrate form. “You’ve got some lovely blue eyes,” he says. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

Louis glares at him.

The doctor puts one hand on Louis’ chest, over his heart. “Deep breaths for me,” he says. 

Louis does as he says, because he’s really not sure what he’s  _ supposed _ to do. Maybe… maybe this is a real check-up? Maybe he’s in a ward somewhere? In which case he wouldn’t want to make things  _ worse _ if he can help it. 

The man moves his hand to Louis’ stomach. “Deep breaths,” he says again. His hand is large and warm. After a few moments he moves his hand up and places it, loose but heavy, around Louis’ neck. “Deep breaths,” he says a third time. 

Louis’ breaths are not as steady that time. 

Then he moves down, and places his hand directly over Louis’ cock, with only the medical gown between them. 

“Deep breaths.”

Louis breaths deep to keep  _ himself _ calm. 

Doctor Styles doesn’t move his hand away this time. Instead, he starts rubbing steady circles with his palm, and curves his fingers a bit, cupping his cock through the material. Louis starts to wiggle, flexing his fists inside of his mittens and clenching his thighs. The doctor’s grip is strong, controlled, and he keeps moving his hand slightly, pulsing his fingers and rubbing along the length in longer, still subtle, strokes. 

Eventually Louis lets out a muffled moan. He knows he’s half hard, knows the doctor knows, and his helplessness is wearing on him.

Doctor Styles squeezes, just once, at the base of his cock, and leans back. “I’m afraid you’re not getting out of here any time soon,” he says, sounding genuinely sorry. “What your body needs is a full reset from the top down. We’ll start immediately, of course, no time like the present, but it’ll be a while before you’re really up and functioning.” He glances down at his chart. “By the time we’re done here, though, I’m sure you’re going to be as cooperative and helpful as the best of them.”

Louis groans loud, struggling against the bed. He can’t — what does he  _ mean—  _ He can’t just— 

The doctor slaps his knee. “Well, we better get moving!” he says, swirling back to the counter behind him. “In a case as serious as this, the first step is to get you all plugged. Really lets the procedure cure a lot faster.” He pulls out a drawer and digs through, pulling out a variety of instruments. Louis cranes his head, but can’t make out much over the doctor’s shoulder. 

“It’s all about reintroduction,” Doctor Styles says, swiveling back around with a glinting silver tray that he attaches to the side of the bed “A fresh start.” 

The first thing he pulls off of the tray is a rubber bulb with a long tube. He reaches up and grasps Louis’ cheeks with one hand and twists the end of the tube into the very front of Louis’ gag with the other. Then, with little warning, he pumps the rubber bulb.

The bit of the gag inside Louis’ mouth expands. 

Louis groans, trying to turn his head away, but it makes no difference. The doctor pumps the bulb again, one two three times, and Louis’ groans turn into whimpers, his mouth terribly full. The doctor squeezes it only one more time and Louis’ whimpers turn silent, jaw cranked so wide it’s impossible to move. 

Doctor Styles lets go of his cheeks and untwists the tube, pulling it back. 

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he says. “No more need to try to speak when you’ve not got anything to say, what a relief that must be.”

Louis whimpers silently, trying to even move his tongue, pressed firmly down against the base of his mouth. 

The doctor then picks up a bulb that looks like the one in his hand, but with a flared bit and no tube. “This will likely feel uncomfortable for a moment,” he says. “But you’ll adjust to it quickly, I’m sure.”

He leans down between Louis’ legs and, to Louis’ horror, reaches between his thighs to push the instrument against his hole. It’s not an easy or comfortable reach, the way Louis is strapped down, but he can feel a moment later when the plug starts to go in. He groans, silently, as he feels himself slowly filled by the plug. It’s a relief when the end of it is pulled in and the base fitted snugly between his cheeks, an unwelcome intruder but at least not going any further. 

Then he realises the doctor still has the bulb with the tube in his hand, and blanches when he reaches the end of the tube down between his legs. 

The pumps this time make Louis moan, clenching his hole on instinct as the plug grows bigger, taking up all the space there is to take and then some. He pants into his gag, feeling the intrusion press on every part of him, before the doctor finally finishes and unscrews it again. 

“It feels so good to be truly full, doesn’t it?” the doctor says, glancing at him. “So right. Just how we were made to be.”

Louis wants to argue, wants to whine and tell him that it’s  _ too much, _ but he can do nothing but shake his head and clench his fists. 

The next instrument that the doctor picks up is silver and complicated looking, a metal rod that curves around and ends in a circlet. Louis eyes it warily, and with growing horror as the doctor flips up the end of his gown and grabs his cock.

Now is a time to scream and escape, if there ever was one, but Louis can do little more than wiggle in the straps as the doctor, with a confidence none should possess, inserts the end of the rod into his cock. 

Louis squeaks.

It’s an indescribable feeling as the rod is inserted all the way, and it becomes clear that the rod is curved in order to come out and circle around the base of his cock. Doctor Styles picks up another circlet, this one with a tiny hinge to open and close it, and closes this one around the base of his balls and penis, then connects the two of them with a small, delicate silver lock. 

Louis whimpers, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. 

“It’s just to make sure nothing comes apart when no one is around to help you,” the doctor assures. “We wouldn’t want that, it would be terribly jarring.”

There is little left on the tray now, and he picks up two little spheres, made of something apparently moldable. 

“A fresh start,” he repeats. “By the time these come out, you’ll feel completely different.”

Then, he pushes them into Louis’ ears.

The sudden silence is deafening. Louis shakes his head back and forth, doing anything to try to dislodge them, but the doctor puts his hands back and presses his palms to the sides of Louis’ face, massaging the plugs in until they feel glued in place, immovable, a part of him. 

The doctor says something, but not even the faintest whisper makes its way to Louis’ ears.

That seems to be what the doctor wants, though, because he nods appreciatively and grabs the last thing on the tray. 

It’s a mask.

It looks like a sleep mask, but larger and heavier. He wraps it around Louis’ eyes and cradles the back of his head to secure it, and Louis is enshrouded in darkness.

Darkness and silence.

He whines and the quiet whispers of it echo through his head. He tries to wriggle about but he’s secured so thoroughly. He tries to unclench his hands but they’re wrapped so tight.

He starts to feel like he doesn’t know where he’s being tied down and where he simply can’t feel what’s around him. A weightless helplessness. It lasts seconds or minutes or hours.

Then he feels a hand on him, and it's so sudden it makes him jolt. A hand stroking his hair, then that hand stroking down his chest, then that hand pushing up under his gown and grasping his cock. 

His cock is  _ sensitive. _

It’s all he can feel, is that hand on his cock. That, and the rod inside and wrapped around it. Whatever the metal piece is, it’s not enough to keep him from getting hard, but it feels overwhelming, every touch from hands and every bit of cold metal echoing through his skin, his every thought centered on that.

Then the hand is gone, and Louis whimpers, his cock aching for more.

Time is lost to him, in the vast nothingness now. But sometimes there are hands on him and sometimes there are not, and before long he’s pretty sure there was never a time in his life when he  _ wasn’t _ hard,  _ wasn’t  _ aching and leaking and begging for someone, anyone, to come help him, to give him that release. 

Doctor Styles is the only one there.

Doctor Styles is the only one who will help him. 

And Louis will do anything for that sweet release.

**Author's Note:**

> Love you all who are into this. You know who you are.


End file.
